The Many Pies of Dean Winchester
by Difficult-notImpossible
Summary: 'The one heart he wouldn't capture would be mine.'   Every flavor of pie present in the roller coaster, dysfunctional relationship of Dean Winchester. Dean/OFC Please R&R


_And here's my new Dean/oc series! I think this, being the first chapter, might be the 1st one thats in 1st person, more OC centered, and not have the pie flavored mentioned in the chapter. Think of this as a sort of journal entry thing :) Most of the other will have a lot more Winchester action and lots of pies ;) hope you enjoy!_

_Thanks to Mali's Bears Buddy for her amazing help! Please review!_

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><p>Hunting had never put me in dangerous predicaments.<p>

Well, some might consider wrestling down a werewolf under a full moon and blasting a silver bullet through its skull dangerous. Purposely getting seduced by a vampire just to decapitate it at the correct time might be considered as "life threatening", right under messing with black magic to out-witch a witch. But, I never really considered that too dangerous. I've always known what to do. It comes at a sort of second nature, knowing what to say, how to react, which weapon to use, what precautions to take. I always take my job seriously, and I don't leave room to get wrapped up in anything.

My sister being claimed by a demon: now that I wasn't expecting.

It was a hard decision to make, letting my poor baby sister suffer in the hands of this monster controlling her, or sending the thing back where it belonged, killing the only family I had left in the process. Her body had been through too much under that sort of wicked influence, the only thing keeping it—her alive being the horrific creature possessing her. Those few seconds where she managed to gain control might have been what broke me, what through me off track, directionless and alone.

I could hear it in her voice, the sadness and desperation as she pleaded with me to take away her misery, to rid her of the pain and remorse. She had always been a control freak, so not being able to control her own body might have driven her off the edge. No matter how much I assured her that I would find a way to help her, to keep her alive with me, neither of us believed me. We both knew what would happen to her, that there wouldn't be anything left in her broken body once I exorcised it.

She lasted thirty seconds. I held her in my arms, bleeding internally, gasping for breath, struggling to hold on to the thread of life for me, all for thirty seconds. The worst part was that I didn't even know what to tell her. I guess I should have told her I loved her, but she knew that already. So I just held her, and she stared at me the whole time with the saddest look in those huge innocent eyes, until they went completely black and she stopped breathing.

I burned her body after that. The last thing I needed was to come back to a nameless state to hunt down my sister's spirit terrorizing some nameless town. I'm pretty sure she moved on anyway, but in my family we liked to do things just to be safe.

I watched the flames engulf her body until there was nothing but ashes left, and when the fire died down, I curled into myself on the dry dirt of the forest and basked in tears and loneliness. I still glance over at the passenger seat expecting her to be sitting there rolling her eyes and tapping her fingers along to whatever new band she was obsessed with playing on the radio. When I'm faced with a lonely car seat, I feel nothing. Sometimes I think it's worse than missing her.

I take every hunt I can find now, tackling them one after another, never a break. I eat when I research and sleep when whatever I'm hunting tosses me around too much. Sometimes I sleep when I've had too much whiskey, and I don't drink whiskey just sometimes.

When I can't find a new hunt on my own, I head to the Harvelle's Roadhouse, and I know Ellen's got something new for me. I guess that's what I can consider my home now, since it's the only place I always come back to.

Beer glasses hitting the bar's counter, old hunters bickering and sharing the latest experience, pool balls crashing against each other on a smooth tabletop, the jukebox playing an old song I can't remember the songs to softly in the background, they're all sounds that belong to the Roadhouse, and it's music to my ears. After the latest hunt and a date in June that I really don't want to remember, I can really use a cold beer, some new info from Jo, and a challenge with some cocky, easily distracted hunters over a game of pool.

My mood isn't the greatest when my ancient VW bug—that I admit is one hell of a trooper—pulls up the roadhouse next to the Impala I have seen a few but too many times. Covered in scrapes and bruises with the anniversary of my sister's murder right around the corner, the last thing I need is a run in with the Winchesters.

Well, that, and my trooper of a car deciding to give up and just die as soon as I put it in park.

But of course, the last thing I need tends to be the first that happens.

My facial expression is enough to keep everyone in the roadhouse to stay away, and I'm grateful for it. Wincing when I plop down onto an empty stool at the bar, I'm met with a nice bottle of beer, and I sigh.

"Tough break, huh?" Jo sighs. "You look like hell, Ren."

"Then it must reflect my mood." I respond swiftly before I'm knocking back half of the beer. I feel her eyes on me the entire time. "I haven't been having the best day."

"Yeah, I saw your car blow up. Ash'll get right on it."

"Thanks."

"Don't you think you might need a break?"

I shoot her a look, and she smiles as she cleans the counter of condensation. "Worth a try."

I roll my eyes. "A hunter can't give up hunting, Jo."

"I didn't tell you to give up; I'm telling you to take a break. You know, catch your breath? Hold off a couple of days between jobs?"

"Right, and people can just keep dying while I sip out of a coconut in Hawaii."

Jo rolls her eyes this time. "There's plenty of other hunters, Ren, not just you."

"Well at least we know no one's as committed as me."

"Oh, commitment," a new rough voice joins the conversation, and it's enough to make my fingers tighten around my beer. Here we go. "I never pegged you as the commitment type, Serena."

My eyes dart to look at Dean Winchester standing beside me, that damn smirk playing on his lips probably enough to have every girl within a six mile radius ready and in his bed. If I wasn't so stubborn, it might have worked on me, but all his womanizing tactics are doing so far are simply working to annoy the hell out of me, and I know he's enjoying it.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere babysitting Sammy?"

He chuckles. "Guy can't get a beer without having his motives questioned?"

Jo gets to work immediately, evidence that that smile is working on her, though she's pretty good at hiding it too. I simply roll my eyes and finish up my own beer. Dean's green eyes are on me, and I meet his gaze, challenging him.

"Haven't seen you around much." He comments. I shrug. "I heard about your sister."

And the bomb drops. My hairs are standing now. Jo freezes, just when my jaw clenches. I don't know how my mouth forms words, but it does. "Yeah. It does gonna be a year tomorrow."

He sighs, heavy. I'm not sure if it's sincere or not, I'm too paranoid to believe his intentions of connecting with me on an emotional level. "I know it's hard."

I glance at Sam, sitting there peacefully at a table, beer bottle nestled in his large hands. "You're brother looks perfectly alive to me."

"I'm saying I know its hard losing family. In this business, sometimes family's all you got." I know what he means. He's talking about his father, how my sister's death can relate to John Winchester's. I get what he's saying, but I'm not buying the sympathy act. I never do. He thinks a grieving girl is an easy one. But I'm not grieving anymore, and I'm sure as hell not easy. I have to give him props on his cleverness, knowing where to strike and how to strike it. He's living up his reputation, not that I expected anything else.

"You know, sometimes, when you're going through that, you need someone to help you forget…" he starts, I smirk. I've run into him about twice now and I already know one of his speeches when I see one. He takes my smile the wrong way, and I scoff, standing.

"You really have to learn how to treat a woman, Dean."

He blinks those eyes, confused, Jo snickers when I shake my head. "I know how to treat women." He defends, his voice loud. Sam cocks an eyebrow from where he's seated.

"Honestly, how many girls have you scored with that speech?"

He pauses, calculating. "A couple."

I sigh, shaking my head, mostly because of the poor gullible girls who thought they would get something out of Dean besides what he shares freely. "Look, it's not working for me, alright? No room in my bed, sorry." I take out some cash, hand it to Jo. I have to get out of here, I'm not in the mood to get into a discussion with this Winchester right now. "Why don't you go, think of some other way to seduce me, and then come back to test it out and see that it doesn't work?"

Sam chuckles. Dean shoots him a sharp look. I wink at the younger Winchester, my sister would have liked him. I smile sweetly as I can before rolling my eyes and pushing past Dean. I'll just wait for Ash to give my Bug a diagnosis outside. The door falls shut behind me, breaking the line of Dean's gaze on me. I really need to educate that man on a woman's feelings, he might win even more hearts if he had some more compassion.

The one heart he wouldn't capture would be mine.


End file.
